Chapter Text
“I can’t believe it’s been almost two years since Voyager returned.” Admiral Janeway sipped coffee with her commanding officer, Admiral Paris, during their weekly meeting. “Life is so different for all of us now.”
“I think your life has changed the most.”
“It’s not a contest.”
“I’ve known you longer and better than anyone in Starfleet. First, as a family friend, then as your captain, and then as director of the Pathfinder Project while Voyager was in the Delta Quadrant.”
She grasped her coffee cup in both hands, savoring its warmth. “That just makes you biased.”
“You’re an admiral, you have Jean-Luc, you adopted Icheb. Quite a change.”
“Oh, I don’t know…” She thought of the many directions her former crew had taken. “Everyone has gone their own way. Look at Tom and B’Elanna. Could you have predicted your son would return as a husband and father and start his own business with a shuttle he himself had designed?”
“I can never thank you enough for all you did for him.” Paris’s face softened as he remembered the previous version of Tom. “You were a much better parent to him than I was.”
She laughed. “If he had seen me as a mother, he would have rebelled. But you're right. There’s a little bit of parenting in all supervision.”
Yes, he realized. He felt fatherly toward her, in fact. “And a little bit of commander in every parent, I suppose.”
“Icheb wouldn’t dare leave his bedroom without making his bed,” she noted.
“He’s sleeping in a bed now?”
Her adopted son, a former Borg drone, had been working toward living a more humanoid life. “About three hours per night on a good night. It’s been rough, but he’s determined to wean himself from his regeneration chamber.”
“I hope the doctor is keeping careful records. Sleeping outside of the chamber is one of the goals of the Borg Reclamation Project.”
“Icheb shares everything with him, and he’s full of suggestions, too. He wants the newly-rescued drones to have the same opportunity he’s had.” She beamed with pride. Her adopted son’s generosity and empathy, though blunted by his remaining Borg technology, seemed to grow stronger by the day.
“I don’t mind telling you, The Federation has mixed feelings about this project. Even though the cubes are on one planet and the former drones on another, there’s some suspicion about their motives.”
Janeway, who had seen first-hand the prejudice Picard faced as the former Locutus of Borg, and that Icheb encountered daily, had no doubt he was right. “We used to mistrust the Klingons, and now they’re allies. They’ll come along.”
“I hope so. You of all people know what’s possible for a former drone.” Paris, proud of his report for many reasons, was perhaps most proud of her rescue of her adopted son, Icheb. “After I first learned about him and Seven, I saw the Borg in a different light.”
“They aren’t monsters. They’re kidnapping victims who were forced into slave labor. It’s our duty as human beings and Federation members to help them.”
“Agreed.” Paris glanced at his viewscreen. “So… planning for the reunion. We have to set a date for the ceremony.”
She sighed. Last year’s ceremony had been overwhelming. One-hundred-forty crew, their families, Starfleet brass, and a lot of media meant less time to catch up with her Voyager family individually. “Last year’s ceremony was…” Ever the diplomat, she struggled to find a way not to say horrible. “It was a bit of a circus. “
“It won’t be as big as last year’s hoopla, but there’s still a lot of interest. People want to know how everyone is faring. You’re celebrities.”
“I’d be curious, too, if I weren’t one of the fish in the fish bowl.” She paused to reflect – they were Starfleet, even though she considered them family, and the events were Starfleet events. “I think we should have the same type of event as last year. So many Starfleet events are memorials, we need this. But I want to have a private gathering, too. You’ll be part of it, I hope. You and the rest of the Pathfinder Project family.”
He smiled at her inclusivity. She understood people and the importance of found family like noone else in Starfleet. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
That afternoon, after soundly defeating Seven of Nine in a game of Velocity, Janeway mentioned the upcoming anniversary.
“I did not attend the first-year anniversary celebration,” the ex-Borg stated flatly, an extra dose of anger in her voice. “I was in stasis. Why should I celebrate with the people who did that to me?”
“Good point. I’ve been considering a small private party with just our Voyager family. Would that interest you? We didn’t put you into stasis.”
Seven raised an eyebrow. “It would.”
Janeway toweled the sweat off her forehead. “Great. I’ll let you know when we’ve set the date.”
“I will attend if I am available. I may be sent Tau Ceti Prime soon.”
“The Borg Repatriation Project?” The arrival of thirty thousand drones seeking asylum had been the catalyst to free Seven from stasis. Who better to advise Starfleet and the Federation on helping ex-Borg? And who better to advise the ex-Borg?
“I assisted in planning for the first stage. Housing is complete, and the drones have moved in, and medical treatment begins soon.”
“Refugees, Seven, not drones,” Janeway reminded her.
“Do you consider me a refugee?”
“I certainly don’t consider you a drone, Seven.” Janeway thought about Seven’s separation from the Collective. It had been involuntary, but she embraced her humanity, albeit gradually. “Do you regret being rescued?”
“No, I do not, despite the difficulty.”
“I don’t regret it, either. You’ve become a good friend.”
It was surprisingly easy to convince Jean-Luc to use his apartment for a Voyager reunion.
“If it means not having to go to the gathering at Headquarters, then I agree to the idea.”
“Oh, no, you still have to go, but you can leave early.” She laughed as she picked up her dinner plates.
He picked up his own and followed her. “Ten minutes.”
“Twenty.”
“Fifteen.” Despite his many years in Starfleet, or perhaps because of them, Jean-Luc dreaded official functions. And being stationed at Headquarters had multiplied that duty.
“Deal.” They shook hands, then noticed their adopted son, Icheb, staring at them.
“How long do I have to stay?”
Kathryn looked from one to the other. She used to think Jean-Luc went along with adoption for her sake, but every day he showed how sincere their connection was. They are peas in a pod. “You can leave with Jean-Luc.”
Icheb extended his hand. “It’s a deal.”
Kathryn shook his hand vigorously. “But you have to promise to talk to people while you’re there.”
“Don’t count on me to entertain you,” Jean-Luc smirked. “I’ll be working the room like a true diplomat.”
“Social events are not irrelevant.” In the years since leaving the Borg, Icheb had learned what humans value, even if their customs made no sense to him. “They are important for forming a collective.”
“Community,” Jean-Luc corrected. “Very different from a Borg collective.”
“You can bring a classmate or two, if that would make you feel better.”
Kathryn’s suggestion heartened Icheb. Learning to behave “normally” at Starfleet’s Preparatory School had been a struggle, but he had made a few friends. “They are part of my community,” he agreed.